Mejor Amigos
by corneroffandom
Summary: All of my ADR and Ricardo oneshots will be uploaded here.
1. Impressive

A/N: Decided since I have a lot of shorter ADR and Ricardo one-shots heading towards being completed, instead of filling up FFN with them all, I would do what I used to do with my Mizorrison and Glamarella oneshots and place them in one link. Longer stories and sequels will continue to be posted separately! Just want to organize things a bit from here on out.

Dolph Ziggler was proving to be more and more of a nuance, and he'd come close to cashing in his briefcase tonight. Too close. If not for Ricardo's quick thinking... Alberto Del Rio looks up with a grimace, another wave of fear overwhelming him. His ring announcer is gone yet again, chased up the ramp by Big E for the second time in as many weeks, giving Del Rio just enough time to recover before the briefcase could be returned to Dolph, this attempt too failing as Alberto had succeeded in knocking him out and getting away. His title belt is safely in his hands still, yes, but he's uncertain about Ricardo. The large man had surprised all of them by how rapidly he'd rushed off after Ricardo and, although Del Rio knows how quickly his best friend can run, he still worries.

Title now attached to his waist so he can move faster without it in his way, or becoming a distraction, he continues down one hallway and another, stopping only briefly to ask the few people he comes across if they'd seen his friend coming this way. All responses are negative and he grimaces, wondering if perhaps Big E had caught his ring announcer and done something to him after all, when he comes to a slow stop at a T in the halls and looks left to right, wondering which way to go. He's about to take a step to the right when he hears breathing, not in time with his own, nearby behind him. He tilts his head, eyebrow raised, turning slowly to look down the shadowy, expansive hallway. No one that he can see is there but the sound continues on, the champion squinting as he ponders it being some sort of sneak attack.

But somewhere deep inside, he knows that that's not what this is, his eyes softening as he follows the noise slowly to a trunk, where he peers into the shadows with a small smile. Adjusting his title belt, he kneels down and sits between the trunk and wall as well, ending up shoulder to shoulder with his ring announcer, who is still trying to catch his breath after getting chased through half of the arena before losing the much larger enforcer. The breaths stutter to a sudden stop, silence overwhelming them both for a few moments until, ... "El Patron?"

His grin grows as he nudges the younger man. "Si." He turns to look at him and smiles plaintively. "Are you well, Ricardo?"

"Si, El Patron, he couldn't catch me." He grins, eyes locking on the soft golden gleam coming from his title belt even in the darkness. "I see Barbie Ziggler was unable to cash in. I meant to keep ahold of the briefcase for longer, but..."

Alberto waves this off with a laugh. "No worry, I took care of it from there. You did impressively well, as always. Gracias." He rests the world title in Ricardo's hands and watches as the younger man peers down at it, his lips curving up in relieved awe. He'd been champion over two months by now but the ring announcer still seems amazed every time he holds onto the title belt, takes in his employer's name etched across the gold. "Between the two of us, we'll be champion for a long, long time. I have no doubt."

Nodding, the ring announcer smiles as he brushes his sleeve against the golden surface, polishing it up a bit despite it being pretty much flawless still. "Same here, El Patron."


	2. Certainty

Alberto Del Rio watches Jack Swagger compete against Khali, shaking his head. There's no doubt that Swagger or Colter will do something- Khali is an immigrant from India, and, in the past, that would've been something he couldn't have cared less about, but he finds he has to, because Swagger's been so against such things. It's easy to plan a simple trap due to this match, but yet...

He looks up as Ricardo limps his way, face set and determined despite needing crutches still to remain upright. His own confidence in this plan wavers again and he rests a hand lightly on the younger man's shoulder, viciously reminded of the Monday prior when Swagger had snuck in another attack and hindered Ricardo's recovery. "Are you sure about doing this, mi amigo? I can find another way-"

"No, no, I can do this much," Ricardo resolves. The past few days had been horrible but he looks certain in this moment and Alberto smiles at him, glad to see determination in his eyes, much preferred over the pure agony that had been there Monday night. "I promise, El Patron."

"Alright, but remember. I want you to keep your distance, I'll be coming out of the crowd from the other side. Just keep them distracted long enough for me to get in place." He smiles when Ricardo nods, patting him on the face. "Alright. Go," he whispers, watching for a moment as his friend hobbles towards the gorilla position. He'd give anything to stay, make sure he's safe, but he has to be on the other side of the arena to get the jump on Swagger for this to work, for them to get any kind of payback for Monday, the week prior. Ricardo deserves to have some hand in this, so he holds steady to their plans and walks through the crowd, paying them little mind as he listens to his ring announcer "challenge" Swagger, and then begin to make his way down the ramp.

It works perfectly, Swagger definitely not expecting him to enter the ring from behind him and lay into him, punching him and getting some revenge for all of Ricardo's pain, but when he locks in the armbar, he's too close to the ropes and Colter reaches in, digging and scraping at his eyes until he has no choice but to release the hold, scrambling. Thankfully Ricardo arrives then and there's a thud as his crutch curves around the old man's spine, sending him away from Del Rio. Ricardo nods up at him before throwing him the crutch, but Swagger's had enough time to recover and make his get away before Alberto can really get in a good hit with the crutch. He sighs in disappointment but has to grin anyway- even a little offense is better than none, and Swagger has to pull Colter up the ramp so all in all, it hasn't been a bad evening.

Not wanting to leave his ring announcer out of arm's reach for too long, he rolls out of the ring and wraps an arm around him, supporting him and laughing as his Wrestlemania opponent spits in anger from the ramp. He smiles slightly when he realizes he's still clinging to the warped clutch, shaking his head as he holds it up so Ricardo can see it too, the two men glancing at each other with an exasperated grin. For one reason or another, they'd gone through quite a few crutches since Ricardo's initial injury, despite it only being a few weeks. "Come, let's get out of here," he says quietly, helping the younger man to hobble up to the ramp after abandoning the worthless crutch for the staff to pick up before the next match.

"Si," Ricardo agrees easily, relieved to find that Swagger and Colter had made their get away quickly enough that they have easy passage through the halls to the locker room. "El Patron? Are your eyes ok?"

"Si, amigo, they're fine. Gracias for getting Colter off of me." He smiles, remembering the sound of crutch hitting spine and squeezes his ring announcer's shoulders, knowing that even that little bit of vengeance must've felt good for Ricardo, after everything the two had put him through the past few weeks. And, if he has his way, it's just the beginning... The next few weeks will be nothing but pain and disappointment for both Swagger and his _founding father._


	3. Speed

From Main Event a couple months ago when Big E first chased Ricardo from ringside, ha.

It takes a few moments for Alberto to catch his breath, start to come down from the post-match high that he always experiences, the crowd's buzz feeding into his energy. He's just taken a full breath, and another, when he realizes: Ricardo's voice hadn't echoed out following the ringing of the bell, in fact he hadn't seen his best friend since Big E had suckerpunched him half-way through the match. His feeling of foreboding multiples when he realizes that Dolph Ziggler and AJ may be regrouping on the outside, but the large enforcer is nowhere to be seen. His eyes narrow as he looks towards the titantron, still no sign of his ring announcer.

Ignoring his opponent, he slips out of the ring and walks at a brisk speed up the ramp, frown growing as Ricardo doesn't appear at gorilla to greet him, the buzz of the audience doing nothing to ease his tension. "Ricardo?" he's just called out into the empty hallway before him when he sees it tangled in the curtain separating the backstage area from the ramp- the familiar black tux jacket that he'd grown so used to seeing on Ricardo over the last three years, spilled out across the grating that cuts off into simple concrete, half-hidden by the shadow of the curtain. His eyes narrowing, he leans down and collects it, worried thoughts racing through his mind a mile a minute. He'd been lost in the fast action of his match against Dolph, he hadn't thought to keep an eye out for Ricardo, certain that his friend could take care of himself, but... "No..." _Big E.,_ he thinks grimly, hands tense against the soft fabric of his friend's clothing.

Hearing footsteps and an unfortunately disdainful voice behind him, he spins and grips Dolph by his throat, holding the shorter man in a threatening position as AJ squeeches at him. "Where _is_ Ricardo?!" he demands, all but shaking the briefcase holder. "Mi amigo, what has your enforcer done to him?!"

Dolph sneers at him and shrugs, seemingly unaffected by the physical threat the World Champion's hold is promising. "How should I know? Maybe if you did a better job of keeping an eye on your _mejor amigo,_"he continues on mockingly, "this kind of thing would stop happening."

Alberto feels a flush of shame as his own worries are reinforced in Ziggler's words, but he merely pushes the man away and steps away, determined to find his ring announcer. "Think, Del Rio. Think..." He walks through the halls and shakes his head, still clinging to the tux jacket. "Where are you, mi amigo?"

His locker room is empty, the hallways are quiet and Ricardo-less, and he's starting to honestly worry that Big E. had done something unforgiveable to the younger man, but he's not ready to give up just yet. There's only a couple of places left to check when he ventures out into the parking lot and looks around. His car is visible from here, a diamond in the rough amongst all of the rental cars, and he walks towards it, his eyes darting here and there- keeping a look out for any potential danger _and_ for his best friend. He stands by the driver's side door and grimaces, disenheartened by how quiet and lifeless it is around his vehicle. "Ricardo, where are you?"

He's turned to walk away, attempt searching inside again, when he hears scrambling against the concrete nearby, pausing with a frown and looking over his shoulder. Shadows are shifting on the other side of his car and he walks back that way when Ricardo's face peers up from the other side of the trunk, his ring announcer's eyes lighting up when he spots him. "El Patron!"

His shoulders sag in relief when he notices his friend, grinning too. "Ricardo!" It's a chilly March evening, but he barely registers anything but the gleam in his ring announcer's eye. "You got away." As he joins the younger man, he pats his jaw and runs his hand through Ricardo's hair while looking him up and down just to ensure that he was perfectly fine.

"Si, of course I did," he grins a little bashfully as his employer continues to examine him. "I'm fine, El Patron. Are... are you?"

_Now,_ he thinks with a small smile. "Si, mi amigo. I'm fine." Remembering the forgotten tux jacket in his hand, he looks down at it for a moment before holding it out to his friend. "I believe you've lost something, Ricardo."

He laughs slightly as he takes the piece of clothing from his employer, eyes widening. "Oh. Gracias, El Patron," he murmurs, shrugging into it with a sheepish smile. "I almost forgot about it."

"Have you been out here long?" he wonders, sliding down to sit next to the ring announcer, not even minding the chill of the pavement against his legs.

"Not really," he shrugs. "I ran around for awhile until I lost E., then snuck back to your locker room, grabbed our things and came out here to wait. This way neither of us will run into them or anyone else tonight." He smiles sheepishly as Alberto blinks, looks down and finds their bags sitting nearby.

"You think of everything," he laughs, nudging the younger man. "Now, let's get out of here, hmm?" As Ricardo nods, Alberto finds his car keys deep in the side pocket of his bag, unlocking the passenger door and, after they both stuff their bags into the car, allows his ring announcer inside before passing over to the other side, ducking into the driver's seat. They exchange another glance, Ricardo grinning a little, before Alberto starts the car up and heads for the exit of the arena parking lot, both men glad to leave with Alberto's title reign in tact for one more week.


	4. Not Alone

"I need your help with something, mi amigo," Alberto Del Rio says early one day, a small smile on his face as he looks over at his ring announcer.

Ricardo blinks, looking up with a slight smile of his own. "Oh, si? What is it, El Patron?"

"I want to film something to make fun of Colter and Swagger's ridiculous _We the People _videos," he tells him, lips twitching even as his eyes show disgust at the message of the original videos. "Would you mind helping me plan it? I have an idea in my head what I want to do, but I need your help seeing it through."

"Oh, of course, El Patron. What do you want to do?" he asks, immediately scrambling around for a pad of paper to write down what his employer has been thinking of.

Alberto explains how he wishes to spoof it all from the fence, to the speech against immigrants, and making it about Mexican food. Ricardo listens patiently, lips twitching, and adds a couple of ideas to what he's already figured out. Between the two of them, they sort their notes out and piece them together until Alberto is chuckling at some of the things they've thought up, his eyes gleaming.

"Wait, there has to be..." Ricardo digs around in his bag to look for something to spoof their outfits, coming up with a few things that look promising, when Alberto drops down next to him and begins to look through his own things, lips twitching into a smile as Ricardo looks over at him, slightly surprised by how into this Del Rio is. He'd never bothered with these things in the past, leaving mocking Big Show and Sheamus to the younger man, but Ricardo knows- he's changed, taking an interest into more of these kinds of things, easing some of the pressure off of Ricardo's shoulders.

Once they combine the items they've found, the spoof outfits look manageable and Ricardo grins faintly, peering down at them. "This is going to be amazing, mi amigo. Gracias, I couldn't have put this all together without you," Alberto says, adjusting a couple of things with the "Swagger" outfit.

"No problem," Ricardo murmurs, deep in thought. "I can do the Colter role, I suppose... so all we'll need to do is find someone willing to do Swagger..." He's starting to go through his contact list on his phone, searching for someone he thinks might be available, when Alberto's bronze fingers rest on top of his, stopping him. He looks up, surprised. "El Patron?"

"I'm going to be Swagger, mi amigo," Alberto says, with some confusion. "Why do you think we'd need to hire someone else?"

He stammers a time or two, honestly shocked. "I just... I mean, you've never been that interested in these spoofs, I just figured you'd rather hire someone to..." He swallows, certain he's close to offending his friend. "Lo siento, I shouldn't have assumed, it's just- I..."

Alberto watches him with growing compassion, frowning quietly. "Relax, mi amigo, relax. You have nothing to apologize for. It's understandable, I used to be quite... hands off with these sorts of things, but I'm not the same man I was in the past. I want to be involved in this, I want to do it alongside you. Unless you think they'd be more impactful if someone else-"

"No, no, of course not, El Patron!" Ricardo intercedes, eyes wide. "It's just... not what I expected, lo siento." He takes a breath. "Doing this with you will only make it better."

Alberto grins, his eyes gleaming. "Bueno, I think so too. Now let's get started, hmm?" As they lean over the notes, sorting out last minute details, he finds- not for the first or last time- that he's beyond glad to not be that same man, who thought himself too important to do such things as this, always leaving it to Ricardo to handle from start to finish.


	5. Redemption

"Tonight went well," Alberto Del Rio says with a small smile as he enters their hotel room, holding the door while Ricardo hobbles in on his crutches. Neither of them are a hundred percent, far from it, but together, they're slowly making their way through. The trainer even suspects that Ricardo will be allowed off of his crutches soon, as long as his ankle continues to recover with no further attacks. "It is just the beginning of the road to my getting the World title back."

"Si, El Patron," the ring announcer nods, smiling his thanks as he gingerly makes his way to his bed, settling down carefully on the mattress with a tired sigh. It'd been a long, stressful week for them both, though things seem to be looking up. "I am glad Booker T had the sense to change the match... though Swagger doesn't belong in it at all. But it does make it easier for you to get revenge against them both."

"Yes it does," he agrees, resting a hand on his friend's shoulder before walking carefully over to the bathroom to get ready for bed. "I'll be out shortly."

"Si, alright," Ricardo smiles, watching as his employer enters the other room, running water echoing out a moment later. He sighs, closing his eyes. Despite how successful the night had been, he feels exhausted. Trying to stay awake to discuss the evening's match against Swagger, as they always do, and consider strategy for any future rematches, he picks at his dress pants, yawning slightly.

"Mi amigo, what did you-" Alberto starts to ask when he leaves the bathroom a few minutes later, voice dying away when he looks up and finds his ring announcer all but sleeping sitting up, his eyes shut as he wavers on the edge of the bed. He blinks and smiles faintly, eyes softening as he limps back over to his friend's side, pushing lightly on his shoulder. The man stirs a little, mumbling a protest, but Alberto quietly shushes him, easing him back onto the bed. "Is ok, amigo. Just sleep. We'll talk in the morning."

Ricardo hums, finally quieting when Del Rio collects the sheets and blanket and spreads it over his body, smoothing the fabric over his chest as he watches him sleep for a moment, smiling.


	6. Fright

_After three years on the road I can't do this anymore. I've settled and seen me change. My love for it has died. Subway I can't eat you anymore._

Alberto Del Rio stares blankly at his phone, his eyes locked on this tweet from his ring announcer. He'd gone to the bathroom for a moment to wash his hands before they continued on to the next event, drying them under the fan when his phone had buzzed in his pocket. The last thing he had expected upon pulling it out was that, _or_ how he'd reacted upon seeing the first two sentences. Even when he had pieced it together with the last line, he can't stop the feeling of dread welling up within him, leaving him a little breathless and ill.

His and Ricardo's road the last few years had been far from smooth, the Mexican aristocrat shamed at just how much he'd put the younger man through in their time together, but to think that _now_ his best friend could still possibly leave him when things were finally going well for them both once more... It'd left him numb, speechless until he'd connected the last six words with the rest, his breath stuttering out of his lungs. Despite now knowing it was just a joke, perhaps, or Ricardo's attempt at freaking the WWE Universe out, his heart is still racing in his chest and he feels a little ill.

Ricardo is his best friend, the most loyal person he has ever met in his nearly 36 years, and the thought of his just... quitting or... It's unfathomable, but those words still remain in his mind, choking him and leaving him craving clarification from the man himself, despite how the tweet itself had ended. He quickly leaves the bathroom and comes to a stop, staring at the back of his best friend's head with something close to desperation in his gaze. Shaking his head, he rushes over the last few steps and sits across from Ricardo, staring at him with wide eyes.

"El Patron, look at-" the ring announcer is saying with a wide grin, holding his phone out to his employer, when he freezes, realizing just how pale the older man appears. "Hey, what- what's wrong, El Patron?" he asks uncertainly, reaching out for him. "Are, are you ill?" His hand's just grazed Alberto's forehead when the Mexican aristocrat twitches away from him, a hurt expression crossing Ricardo's face at the rejection. "Did I do something wrong?"

"That tweet," he says lowly, aware that doing this in public is probably a bad idea, but he can't just leave it, the first couple of sentences echoing in his mind. "Ricardo-"

The ring announcer looks surprised by the pain in his friend's face and he glances back towards his phone before staring back at his employer, it hitting him like a rush. Due to his doing this trick to freak the WWE fans out, he'd inadvertantly done exactly that to Del Rio, and... "Oh, El Patron," he breathes, feeling like the lowest person in the world. "No, no, I- lo siento, it wasn't... I didn't mean to worry you."

"There's no truth behind it?" he asks dully, eyes still locked on the screen. "Not at all?"

He gapes for a moment before shaking his head wildly. "No, El Patron! I'm happy with my role as your ring announcer- I swear! I- it was just a stupid tweet, I never wanted to make you think I wasn't satisfied, or-"

Alberto glances at him, relieved by how sincere he can tell the younger man is, his eyes lit with desperation to make his employer believe him. When he reaches out for Ricardo, patting his chest, the ring announcer falls silent and swallows, staring back at him fearfully. "I believe you, mi amigo. It's ok." But the question remains with him and he stares once more at the phone, closing his eyes. "It's just... I can't help but wonder, you see. In the past, when I was... cruel and... not as I am now, would you... ever consider such things? Just quitting and...?" He's not sure how to word it in a way that won't be an insult to the loyal man before him, but he's so curious, still unsure how Ricardo had ever managed to endure all that he'd been put through thanks to his thoughtlessness.

Ricardo swallows and glances away from him before steeling himself, turning back after a moment of thought. "No," he says quietly. "I never would've left you in the lurch like that... and... I only ever wanted to assist you achieve the greatness you deserved, be present for each victory, help you through whatever disappointments and injuries you may suffer. Even when you were at your lowest, you were always my friend and we've moved past it." They sit quietly for a few moments, Alberto visibly digesting this, before he nods slightly. "El Patron...?"

"Si?"

Ricardo smiles sheepishly. "I really _am_ sick of Subway..." As Del Rio stares at him, blinking a time or two, he holds his breath until finally the older man laughs in disbelief, squeezing Ricardo's shoulder.

"Fine, fine, mi amigo. We'll find somewhere else to frequent for awhile. Alright?" When Ricardo nods, grinning, he chuckles and pulls the ring announcer closer, shaking his head as he drapes an arm around him. "No more of those misleading tweets, however."

"Si, El Patron."


	7. Safety

Friday. Barely four days since Dolph Ziggler had cashed in against Alberto Del Rio to become new World Heavyweight Champion. The first few days had been spent quietly, neither Ricardo or his employer up to much if any conversation. Finally, on Friday, Alberto does speak, however, sitting down next to his ring announcer and peering at his idle sketching. "Amigo."

"Oh." Ricardo, surprised at the sudden sound of his employer's voice, puts his pad down. "Si? Is there something you need, El Patron?"

"Yes," he says slowly, staring at Ricardo's still casted ankle. "Amigo, I know you want to be by my side for events and such, but..." He pauses and licks his lips. "I want to go to Smackdown alone tomorrow," he explains warily. "I will only be there briefly, and I just don't want you to have to walk around the halls needlessly while your ankle is still recovering. I only want to address Ziggler, it'll probably take a few minutes at most. Then I'll be back and we can prepare for Raw, si?" It's not the full story but he's not willing to admit his own weakness to the younger man- his inability to keep Ricardo safe even when he'd been healthy in the past eating at him. Now with his knee messed up, he's not willing to risk the ring announcer's ankle injury being targeted again or something even worse happening.

Ricardo would ordinarily try to talk his employer into allowing him to join him, but there's a look in Del Rio's eye that eats at him, and he finds himself giving in through a dry throat. "Si, El Patron. If it's... what you really want, I'll stay here." It hurts to agree, the younger man never wanting anything more than just to do his job, but he's sure that the last thing Alberto needs is _more_ things to consider following his abrupt title loss, especially when Ricardo can still barely walk without crutches.

"Gracias, mi amigo," Alberto sighs, picking up his jacket and turning for the door. "I'll be back soon." He smiles half-heartedly at the ring announcer before leaving the room, leaning against the hotel door for a moment, sighing. He would give anything for normalcy, being able to walk without this limp, Ricardo by his side without need of those crutches, and he knows it'll happen shortly, it's just the waiting that he can't stand. Especially now that he's without his title.

Ricardo stares at the door and shakes his head, wondering how Alberto will handle seeing Ziggler holding the title belt, Swagger, all of it, for the first time since Monday- and alone no less. He understands, he just itches to be by his employer's side, even if he wouldn't be much help... He could at least try to distract him no matter what may come from his approaching the new World Champion, but... He sighs, burying his face in his hands for a moment, before clicking the TV on to wait for Smackdown to begin. When Alberto does limp out in the middle of Ziggler's promo, he seems happy, even mocks Dolph and promises to be champion again. It had been a week of ups and downs for them both, and Ricardo's not sure how much of it is an act, but it makes it a little easier to wait until he returns half an hour later, his knee obviously causing him even more problems from being upright for so long as he barely gets inside before his leg almost gives out on him, Ricardo, who'd stood to greet him when he'd heard the key in the door, just arriving there in time to catch him and keep him upright, even as his own balance is tested thanks to his ankle.

"El Patron," he gasps, supporting him with trembling hands. "Are you-" He bites his lip, easing him the rest of the way over to his bed and frowning down at him, eyes dark with worry for his friend. "Are you ok?" He eases the other man's leg up onto a pillow and hobbles over to the ice bucket, scooping some out and putting it in a pack which he presses against Alberto's knee as soon as he returns to his side. "No one did anything at the arena, did they?"

"No, I'm fine, just too much walking," Del Rio shrugs, frowning at his own weakness. "I'll be alright." Glancing at his friend, he smiles faintly. "What did you think?"

Ricardo stares at him for a moment before smiling slightly, reaching over to adjust the ice pack nervously. "It was good to see you so confident, El Patron. Swagger... left you alone, did he?"

"Si, he ignored me." Alberto chuckles slightly and grimaces when the chill of this ice seeps through his pants,impatient of this knee injury. Thankfully it wasn't too serious, just a nuisance to him in getting around, the trainer supposing that he'd be cleared to compete again in a few days. As Ricardo sits down next to him, gingerly resting his ankle on the bed, Alberto's smile grows more grim. "We're quite the pair, amigo. But we'll make it through," he vows. "We always do." Through neck and groin injuries, concussions and so much else, he has no doubt that they'll it through this as they had many times in the past.

Ricardo nods. "Si, of course we will, El Patron." They smile wanly at each other before Ricardo shifts again, getting more comfortable next to his employer as they try to find something interesting to distract them for the rest of the evening.


	8. Reassurance

_My family, and my kids are the ones I'm most protective of. And Ricardo is my family as well._

The ring announcer's smile, soft and a little embarrassed at the affectionate statement staring back at him from the WWE Magazine article that Alberto Del Rio had sat down for a couple of weeks ago, grows as he reads through the rest of the article, those words not quite leaving him even as he digests the rest of his employer's comments. Content, he thumbs through the rest of the magazine, idly reading this and that before he comes upon an interview with 3MB. His eyes narrow slightly as he remembers that they had been the crux of all of this- their bullying had led Del Rio to defend him for the first time, cementing their friendship after months of his not knowing for sure if they were just employer/ring announcer or actual friends...

Even so, one of the questions catch his eye, his employer's name one of the answers. _Who from the locker room would be the best to party with?_ And both Drew and Heath had responded with Alberto. He swallows, looking down. Once upon a time, Del Rio would have little issue with going off with various people, leaving Ricardo behind to organize things before traveling onto the next city, but that had changed since he'd begun treating Ricardo like an honest friend... but the interview brings back bad memories for the ring announcer, his mind drifting as he picks at his nails anxiously, suddenly regretting that he'd even opened the magazine to begin with. The second interview had made his feelings towards the first all but null, and he presses his thumbs into his eyes as he takes in the silence, wondering what's taking Del Rio so long to order food...

He shifts, gingerly adjusting his ankle on the pillow Alberto had helped him rest it on before he'd left, and tries not to dwell on the morose thoughts filling his head. "It can't be," he mumbles. "He's just... held up in line or something. That's all." Even so, he can almost imagine his employer off with 3MB or any number of other superstars, enjoying drinks at a club, or...

He's still lost in these thoughts when there's a soft click at the door and it opens, Alberto Del Rio entering with arms full of bags. "Lo siento, mi amigo. Traffic was ridiculous, and the line at the restuarant was somehow worse. But I finally have our food." He's just set the bags down on the table in front of Ricardo when he registers the look on his face, surprise mixed with some lingering pain. "Mi amigo? What's wrong? Did something happen while I was gone? Your ankle?" he demands, glancing towards the upright appendage.

"No, my ankle's fine," Ricardo shakes his head, only falling silent when Alberto's eyes land on the article, peering at it. "El Patron-"

"What's this?" he asks, sitting down next to Ricardo at the table and pulling the magazine closer to him, frowning. As soon as the problematic words register with him, he frowns at his ring announcer. "Amigo..."

Ricardo tries to move past it, gripping the bags and bringing them closer. "What food did you get, El Patron?" he asks, tilting the bags so he can reach inside and get the containers out, but Del Rio has him before he even reaches the top item, gripping his wrists carefully. "El Patron-" he breathes, closing his eyes. "Por favor..."

"Isn't it obvious, amigo? We're a team," he says simply. "If 3MB wanted to party with me, they'd have to invite you too or I wouldn't be interested. Especially considering it's 3MB doing the talking there. Haven't you realized that yet?" He smiles when Ricardo stares at him, breathing in unsteadily. "I know I've mismanaged much between us over the years, but things aren't as they were. I'll never exclude or leave you behind like that again, mi amigo. I promise."

Eyes softening, Ricardo smiles. "I believe you, El Patron. Gracias." Alberto smiles back and brushes his fingers through the younger man's hair before tipping the bag so the ring announcer could reach inside to pull the containers of food out easier.


	9. Culpability

Leaning in to the ring on his stomach, Ricardo Rodriguez grabs his employer's hand, eyes gleaming with disappointment even as he keeps an eye on Jack Swagger. "El Patron," he beseeches, unable to get good enough traction to pull Alberto Del Rio to safety thanks to his still healing ankle. "Can you- help me..." Alberto is still limp after the hard fought match he'd just lost, but Ricardo's voice seems to wake him up some and he pushes himself forward with his good leg just enough for Ricardo to hook him under his arms and drag him to the apron where Alberto takes over and flops himself out of the ring, Ricardo scrambling to brace him as he hits the floor. "El Patron," he sighs, rolling him over onto his back carefully.

"Mi amigo," he winces, disappointed in this loss, and in a fair amount of pain following the shots with the kendo stick, on top of everything else. Ricardo pats his arms sadly, shaking his head. "I lost."

"I'm so sorry, El Patron," he whispers, eyes gleaming. "Come, come, sit up," he urges, his hand slipping from behind his head to his back as he tries to push him upright gently. "Are you-... you're not dizzy, are you?" When Alberto denies this, he sighs in relief and rests a hand on his shoulder. "It's all my fault, El Patron. Please forgive me."

"Why do you need my forgiveness, Ricardo?" Del Rio mumbles, struggling to keep his eyes open as Ricardo rests him gingerly against his chest. "You did nothing wrong."

He shakes his head, dark eyes welling with bitter tears as he takes in the marks forming on his employer's back. "First the crutch, now this, it's all- it's all my fault... I was... was the reason Swagger and Colter got ahold of the crutches in the first place, and now... I brought the kendo sticks into play, I should've... I should just stay out of these situations-"

"Hey, hey." Alberto drops a hand on top of Ricardo's, squeezing gently. "We've discussed this, si? I forgave you for the crutch situation, it wasn't your fault... and tonight... you were trying to help, I realize that. Stop blaming yourself for these things, mi amigo. Sometimes bad things happen, and we just have to work through it. Si?"

"Si, I- I know, but-"

"But nothing," he says calmly. "Considering how many times you've gotten injured over the years, you probably know better than most that nothing is certain in this business. Injuries happen, most when you least expect them. I can't blame you same as you've never blamed me for anything you've endured over the years. Por favor, you can't blame yourself."

Ricardo takes a deep breath, staring at him for long, painful moments, before nodding. "I'll, I'll try, El Patron."

Alberto nods back, knowing that he'll eventually convince the younger man, or at least not give up on trying to. "Good, that's all I can ask of you." He smiles faintly.


	10. United We Fall

He feels numb. All Ricardo had wanted was to accompany Alberto to ringside, support him as he always had... and yes, he knows he probably should've listened to his employer, but it'd felt wrong to leave him alone out there, dealing with Colter _and _Swagger by himself, and though he couldn't do much due to his ankle, he'd at least wanted to support the older man. But it had all gone wrong, his employer targeted by both men and he feels disgusted with himself, worried about how his employer will react to it all being his fault. He'd tried entering the ring to help him just to get shoulderchecked off of the apron to the floor, where he hadn't been able to move since. Tears trail down his face as he ponders this, how he can't move his arms or legs, everything just a little blurry and distant. _Por favor,_ he thinks desperately, still not sure what's going on inside of the ring. The last thing he had seen hadn't been good, his employer getting laid into with both of his crutches.

Still feeling empty and motionless, he listens as Del Rio screams overhead, spitting out angry, painful Spanish apparently to the two men who'd so thoroughly attacked them. This close to Westlemania. It's not good, if Alberto had gotten injured, _now_... and all he can think is _it's my fault. It's all my fault. I am a fool. Lo siento, El Patron, lo siento._ His tears are turning into sobs, into hyperventilating struggles to breathe, and he still can't feel his legs or arms. A referee and trainer has been with him since he'd fallen, the rest in the ring with Del Rio, but he ignores them, barely realizing they're asking him questions, trying to listen to what's going on in the ring.

Finally his fingers twitch and he can feel some discomfort in his limbs, which is an odd kind of comfort as his tears turn to relieved ones. "I can- can feel that," he whispers as the trainer trails an instrument along his unbroken foot. With more time, feeling slowly returns to him and he's helped to his feet, the referees careful with him as he's assisted to the back. Alberto is already back there, the trainer's assistant wiping the oozing wounds along his back and shoulders and Ricardo feels ill as soon as he sees the horrible welts, his eyes filling with tears anew as he's helped over to a cot and laid down. _My fault, my fault..._

The trainer eventually leaves to check on someone else, giving Alberto time to rest while still sitting up to keep pressure off of his wounds. Ricardo stares at the ceiling, drowning in physical and emotional pain and the silence still coming from his employer, when he can't stand it any longer. Struggling, he slides slowly off of the cot and catches his breath, amazed that he'd gotten back onto the floor without faceplanting or any other mishap. _Almost _missing his crutches, he plaintively hobbles his way to his friend's side and gets another good look at his back, shuddering painfully. Cream for his welts is still sitting nearby and he stares at it, sniffing slightly, before picking up a couple of unused gloves and carefully putting them on. Alberto says nothing as Ricardo gingerly smears some of the cream onto his fingers and across his employer's back, gently rubbing them into the welts to ease some of the agony he knows his employer has to be in. Despite his vision still wavering due to tears, he holds his hand steady and finishes quickly, angry at the trainer for leaving Alberto to suffer like this but even angrier at himself for all but putting the weapons involved in this into Swagger and Colter's hands. "Lo siento," he finally murmurs, turning painfully back towards his own cot after removing the gloves and tossing them into a nearby garbage pail. "Soy un idiota..."

He's barely taken a step when a hand reaches out and grips his wrist, stopping him. "Ricardo," Del Rio's pain-tight voice says after a moment. He turns slowly to find the older man staring at him and he shudders, eyes falling to the tiles reflecting the florescent light overhead as he waits for whatever his employer will have to say regarding his latest faux pas. "You're not an idiota." he squeezes his wrist. "This is just one of those things, si?" He takes a breath and shakes his head. "Like when I urged you to stay in the back and that perro Big Show got his hands on you, and you forgave me for that before I even said anything. No point in dwelling on it, Wrestlemania is too soon for such things. Let's just move on, si? I don't blame you."

Ricardo's eyes are wet and filled with pain as he looks up at his employer, shaking his head as he sniffs. "Are you sure, El Patron? This- this... your back..."

"Yes I'm sure," he insists, tugging on Ricardo's wrist. "Come here, mi amigo." Once they're face to face, he forces a smile, though it's painfilled and a little shaky. "Are you alright? Your ankle? And... everything else? I saw the trainers with you..."

He's tempted not to say anything, to let this moment be about Alberto and his mangled back, but the longer his employer stares at him, the more he wants to just confess, let go of just how scared he'd been. "I... Swagger knocked me off of the apron," he admits. "I was trying... trying to help you..." Alberto nods, his eyes darkening at just how off-balanced his ring announcer sounds. "I hit the floor so hard, and I couldn't... I couldn't move. It was... my arms and legs, they were... numb for a little bit."

Del Rio turns to him, his eyes narrowed. "How long is a little bit?" He begins looking around for the trainer, to grill him on what could've caused that, when Ricardo rests a trembling hand on his employer's shoulder.

"Not long, it's nothing-"

"It's not nothing," he snaps, easing back slightly when he spots the wide eyed fear on the ring announcer's face at the heat of his temper. "Lo siento, it's just... my body feels like it's on fire, and now you're telling me this- and acting like it's... it's unimportant. It _is _important_,_ Ricardo. Your pain matters to me same as my own does. Por favor, talk to me..."

His eyes fill with tears and he reaches out to steady his employer, shaking his head. "Just for a couple minutes, I'm ok now, El Patron. He- he said it was probably just the shock of it- I might be sore tomorrow, but I should... should be ok to accompany you to the Empire State Building."

Alberto frowns, already planning on talking in length with the trainer about exactly what had happened, but not wanting to add to Ricardo's pain, take away his excitement for one more thing, nods faintly. "Fine, Ricardo. I'm looking forward to it as well, amigo," he murmurs, taking in how his eyes light up a little, obviously expecting his employer to decline his involvement in the media event leading into Wrestlemania week. He sighs, vowing once more to pay Swagger back in full for all that he'd done to the both of them over the past few weeks.


	11. Wrong Target

A/N: I expected them to do something more like this after that Sin Cara match. I was a little disappointed they didn't, heh.

Alberto Del Rio is alone in his locker room, wondering what's taking Ricardo so long to get something from catering, when Jack Swagger saunters out to the ring, Zeb Colter by his side as always. He listens half-heartedly as the two men rant on and on about their agenda for this nation, the same old lecture against immigrants. He sighs heavily and wishes that his best friend had arrived in time to listen to all of this, so they could at least pass the time mocking the two men, but instead he's stuck here listening to it alone. He's just begun pondering going out to interrupt the nonstop spiel when something Swagger says gives him pause.

"To accomplish this, we've decided it's time to prove how dedicated we are to the cause." Colter takes over speaking then, but Del Rio's eyes are locked on Swagger's face as he marches towards the front of the ring, glaring down the ramp at seemingly nothing, waiting for something to happen. There's a strange look in his eye that unsettles even the World Heavyweight Champion and he frowns, sitting forward so as not to miss a word. "Sin Cara last week was only the beginning. We will clean all of these... immigrants from this company," he vows with no lack of disdain, eyes still locked on the large screen before them.

Finally music that Alberto thinks he remembers vaguely from... somewhere begins playing on the titantron, realization stabbing through him when he caughts a glimpse of the titantron. "No, no," he mumbles, shaking his head desperately. Just that moment, the door opens and Ricardo enters the locker room, frowning at him before he glances towards the TV, recognition smacking him upside the head as well, gaping as Memo Montenegro slowly makes his way past the curtain. "Mi hermanito," Del Rio hisses, his fists pressed tightly to his sides. "Ricardo-"

They watch as Memo Montenegro walks down the ramp, his eyes dark with uncertainty while he approaches the ring for his first televised match. Ricardo doesn't even say anything, following his employer closely as he leaves the locker room loudly and rushes down the halls towards the gorilla, knowing that this won't end well for his brother, just barely missing running into various people scattered around. Ricardo ignores them as well, keeping up with his employer until they're at the ramp and Alberto is sliding into the ring, kicking Swagger off of his brother and breaking up the Patriot Lock just in time as Memo writhes away, gripping his ankle. Thankfully Swagger and Colter both retreat as Ricardo joins them, resting a hand on Memo's trembling shoulder while Del Rio helps his brother sit up.

Alberto is so angry that he's shaking and he glowers up the ramp at the two men, his need to be there for his brother the only thing keeping him from going after the two smug men. "You will pay," he vows in both Spanish and English, shaking his head before turning his attention back to Memo. "Are you alright, mi hermanito? Your ankle-"

"I'm ok, I'm ok," he whispers, wincing as Ricardo obligingly goes for his ankle, unlacing his boot and examining his leg while they wait for the trainer to enter the ring. "Just sore, hermano." The trainer confirms this after a few moments and Ricardo helps Alberto get Memo to his feet, the two men supporting him back up the ramp and to the locker room for him to relax, rest. "Lo siento, Alberto, I thought- maybe, I could-"

"No apologies, Memo. It's my fault, you never should've been dragged into my mess. I will make those perros pay," he vows, taking a ice pack from Ricardo and resting it on his brother's ankle. "I'm the one who's sorry. They won't get away with this, I promise you." He pats his brother's head and grimaces, turning to look at Ricardo. "Mi amigo, I want you to be careful. If they're willing to target mi hermanito, you..."

Ricardo nods grimly, glancing from Memo to Alberto. "I understand, El Patron. Don't worry, I'll keep an eye out. Everything will be fine."

And they all opt to believe this until the following week's Main Event, Alberto in the building just to pass some time leading up to Smackdown, ignore the jitters he still feels following the attack against Memo and how close he'd come to being seriously injured just because of his being Alberto's brother, when he hears that horribly familiar theme music of Jack Swagger, eyes narrowing as the supposedly "True American" makes his way to the ring, Colter alongside him. He wonders for a moment where Ricardo has gone off to _this_ time, but is distracted when Colter begins speaking, a shrewd look on his face as he drones on about America and ridding it of all of the job thieving foreigners who can barely even speak English, his usual spiel that Alberto's begun to tune out instinctively. Until...

"I've especially picked Jack Swagger's opponent tonight," the older man announces, smirking with a dark gleam in his beady eyes. "Cue the music, let's get this over with, hm?"

Del Rio chokes as a familiar theme music- rarely heard but yet again recognizable- begins to play, his eyes narrowing as he takes in the masked man walking hesitantly down the entrance ramp. "No, no," he mumbles, pressing his fingers to his forehead. "Maldita sea!" But there's nothing to be done other than watch as El Local enters the ring, adjusting his wrist bands as he stares uncomfortably at Swagger through his mask.

At some point after the six man match he'd competed in with Memo and Alberto, Ricardo had asked his employer if there was a way for him to compete more regularly. His initial contract with Alberto had been just as his ring announcer, the younger man content with even that much for a way into the biggest wrestling federation in the business, Alberto only realizing how poor a decision this had been for the younger man once he'd seen him competing in FCW a time or two. But what had been done couldn't be changed, until the next contract cycle, when Alberto had reworded it so he could have a little more leeway to compete now and again. Except by then he'd been attacked by Big Show and lingering neck issues haunted him, causing the trainer to be a bit hesitant to clear him. Another reworded contract later and Alberto had agreed to his competing sometimes under a mask, though that came and went as well thanks to further attacks from Sheamus, Randy Orton and Big Show. But all of the down time had led into Ricardo thinking up El Local, and Alberto signing off of it, when he'd seen how desperate his friend was to compete.

And it had gone alright, Ricardo having a few matches as El Local on Saturday Morning Slam, NXT, even overseas in non-televised events. But, now, for the first time, the Mexican aristocrat regrets agreeing to it as his friend stands across the ring from his Wrestlemania opponent, all alone. He makes it to his feet and rushes out of the room, through the hallway to at least be nearby during the match when he catches a glimpse of the action on a monitor, Ricardo down on the mat with Swagger leaning over him, kicking and slapping him derisively. "Ay," he huffs, moving faster but knowing it's taking too long- his locker room had been a good ways away from the gorilla, and he wonders why the universe always seems to be working against him, against them.

When he finally makes it to ringside, Ricardo is on his stomach, tapping desperately as Swagger twists his ankle cruelly, blatantly trying to snap it. He's so lost in his own dark thoughts that he doesn't note Colter yelling at him, the fans reacting to Del Rio's presence, or anything else- nothing gets through to him until Del Rio is in, flying off the rope to kick him in the side of the head and send him off of Ricardo, who falls against the mat, gasping and choking against his mask as he curls in towards his injured ankle and Alberto stands over him protectively, a hand secure on his back as he struggles, glaring out at the two men muttering back and forth on the outside.

Referees swarm out, some ordering Swagger and Colter away from ringside as others go to assist Ricardo, and Alberto stands between where he's being checked out and the front of the ring, glaring down at the two men reluctantly leaving up the ramp, the referees' demands only enough to make them keep moving at a snail's pace. Once they're gone, he heads back to where his friend's laying, his eyes locked on the lights overhead as the trainer examines his ankle carefully. "Is he ok? His ankle-?" Del Rio demands, resting a hand on the side of Ricardo's mask, not caring as questioning glances come his way from those unaware that Ricardo _is_ El Local.

"It's not broken," the trainer says after a few moments. "It's probably going to be sore for a few days, however. Let's get you to the back, and get some ice on it," he tells the masked man, who nods wearily. Once they're ready to move, Alberto rolls out of the ring, waiting to support his friend as the trainer helps him towards the ring ropes, the Mexican aristocrat looping his arm around his shoulders and easing him around the ring.

"People are going to be so confused," he mumbles beneath his mask, glancing up when Alberto peers down at him, confused. "About why you're helping me like this," he clarifies.

"Don't worry about it, mi amigo," he says with a faint smile, his first since realizing who Swagger and Colter had chose for the match. "I'm not. Most aren't aware that you are El Local, and if they ever do realize it, it's fine. I'm just glad you're alright."

Ricardo nods, staring down at his leg as he limps along, supported by his employer. "Gracias, El Patron," he murmurs, worried about what else this whole feud leading into Wrestlemania will bring- but knowing that Alberto will always do his best to keep them all safe.


	12. Why I Keep You Around

The night of Wrestlemania XXIX. Ricardo Rodriguez stares around with a small grin, excitement and nerves warring within him for dominance. It's hard not to be excited for Wrestlemania, but he's also just a little nervous. He'll be out there with a broken ankle, something which had proven to be a detriment for his employer the past few weeks, but also Swagger is vicious, as is Zeb Colter, and he can't help but worry, just a little, about his employer, especially after the attack they had laid out upon his back less than a week ago with his own crutches.

He's still examining the set up of the arena, how the ringside area looks with the New York skyline replica hanging overhead, and smiles on in awe as he considers the third year of his being involved in this. It's amazing, more than he could've ever expected when he began this road. He's just about to turn awkwardly on his crutches and go to find Alberto, knowing that the world champion is taking today quite seriously, not wanting to lose focus against Swagger and his ruthless agenda, when he almost runs into someone. "Oh, lo siento, I didn't-"

He shuts up immediately, paling when he finds that it's Colter lurking behind him, twirling his mustache in that disturbing way of his. Sneering down at Ricardo, he holds his hands up. "Now, now. I saw you out here and figured we should have a bit of a one-on-one of our own before the World Heavyweight title match..."

"I have nothing to say to you," he finally says, trying to move backwards, away from him. "Let what happens in the ring tonight speak for itself, this isn't the time-"

"Where do you think you're going, little Ricardo?" the older manager asks in that way that sounds so derisive and mocking of the ring announcer, sneering underneath his mustache as he blocks the ramp from him, able to walk faster than he on his crutches. "Now, now. Just a conversation, that's all I want. You know, I'm an observant sort, and I like to do my research before matches... especially when they're as important as this one. So I've been watching a fair amount of these little interviews you and Del Rio have been putting on recently."

Ricardo is certain that this is some sort of trick, looking over his shoulder for Swagger sneaking through the empty seats, but the building is quiet outside of a couple of people examining the set for the event in a few hours. "Just let me through," he says quietly, once more trying to limp past Zeb, but failing as the man pushes him backwards, almost sending the crutches out of his hands.

Ignoring this, the war vet continues to speak, his eyes beady and spelling danger. "And one thing stuck with me. Ever notice that your amigo there, your employer, on these little interviews, likes to say after he makes you introduce him that that's why he keeps you around? That doesn't sound very friendly to me. Kind of like all you're good for to him is to roll the r's in his name." He laughs as Ricardo stares at him, his body suddenly very still and quiet. "See what your loyalty has gotten you? A man who claims you're his friend and then speaks so dismissively of the _one_ ability you've shown yourself to have in this company. Not that I blame him, you aren't any good in the ring, or as a driver, or-"

"Hey!" Both men jerk as Alberto Del Rio's rough voice echoes through the mostly empty arena, Zeb quickly backing away from the pale ring announcer. "Get out of here, old man," he spits at the manager angrily, glaring him down until he huffs and does so, not wanting to be within striking distance of the Mexican aristocrat without Jack there to back him up. As soon as he's out of sight, Alberto sighs and rests his hands on either side of Ricardo's neck, trying to catch his eye. "Hey. Are you alright?" Ricardo nods but Del Rio digs his fingers softly into the younger man's skin, trying to get him to look up. "No you're not. What did he say? Mi amigo..."

"He..." Ricardo swallows. "He pointed out how... you say in interviews sometimes that, uh, after I announce you, that that's why you keep me around. He- it was nothing, El Patron. There's no point in discussing-"

Alberto stares at him, gaze dark and grim, reading through Ricardo's denials easily, seeing the uncertainty and pain in his eyes. "That perro." He glances around but Colter is long gone by now, of course. He steps closer and rests a hand on Ricardo's arm, squeezing gently. "Amigo, do you remember the tweet I made after TLC? Hm?"

Ricardo thinks for a moment. "That, um... that you're the only one allowed to bug me because you're my best friend?" he asks uncertainly, blinking as Alberto beams at him, nodding. He sighs and looks down, fussing slightly while twisting his hands together.

Alberto reaches out and cups his hands, slowing his nervous motions. "That's the only reason I say such things, mi amigo. Well, that and the fact you know that I get a bit nervous during interviews. I mean nothing by it, and if you want me to stop saying so, I will." He squeezes his fingers. "I don't mean to make you self-conscious or uncomfortable. I'm aware that you're only starting to get in a better place, self-confidence wise, after the last few years, and I don't want some meaningless comments I make to ruin all of the progress you've made."

Ricardo looks up, taking in the sincerity in Alberto's gaze, nodding slightly as the tension and anxiety eases from him. "It's alright, El Patron. I believe you. Don't feel the need to stop saying what you want just because of Zeb Colter trying and failing to cause issues between us."

Alberto's eyes soften as he pats his friend's face, shaking his head. "Are you _sure_, mi amigo? I don't want to say or do anything that makes you susceptible to anything Swagger or Colter may try in the future..." When Ricardo nods, his expression once more certain and calm, Alberto finds himself thankful once more for the young man's belief in him, pulling him closer in a hug. "Gracias, gracias."

The ring announcer smiles, hugging him back. "De nada."


	13. On Your Behalf

"This can come off," the trainer finally deduces of the ankle boot to the delight of both Ricardo Rodriguez and Alberto Del Rio. As he unlatches it, Ricardo grins up at his employer and steeples his fingers in front of his mouth while he waits for his ankle to be freed completely, almost vibrating with happiness. The past week had been much better than the prior couple for them both, as Alberto had been granted his rematch at the ppv and now this. Even Alberto's knee seems to be better, his step surer and less stiff.

"Finally," the ring announcer says, his voice wavering a little as the final straps are removed, another horrible chapter about to be put behind them. As the trainer examines his ankle, urging him to still be careful on it for awhile, he nods. "Si, si, definitely. Gracias!"

Alberto smiles at him, about to say something when- "Playas," Teddy Long greets them, entering the room. Both Mexicans frown as he nods at the trainer, something lurking in his gaze that neither like. "So his ankle is a hundred percent?"

"Yes sir," the trainer offers after a moment of uncertainty.

"Great," the senior adviser to the general manager smirks, something in his beady eyes unsettling all men in the room. "I'm confirming a match made for tonight then." He looks from Del Rio to Ricardo before nodding briskly. "Big E vs Zeb Colter vs Ricardo Rodriguez."

Time seems to stop until finally Alberto lunges forward. "What?! He's just recovered, you're not seriously going to place him in a ring with-"

Teddy ignores the interruption, speaking over him. "Whoever wins grants their competitor in the World Title match the opportunity to pick the match type." This quiets Alberto and leaves Ricardo gaping as they realize what that means. "Holla," the senior advisor says, leaving before they can even comment on this new detail.

"Ricardo-" Alberto mutters, turning to his ring announcer. "Do you think...?"

Ricardo guesses immediately what he's thinking, biting his lip slightly. "Um, well... I'll do my very best to win it for you, El Patron." He's nervous too, being in the ring with Big E. and yes, Colter too, so soon after healing from his ankle injury- he'd not even completed all of his scheduled rehab appointments, the last meeting with the specialist Alberto had hired for him scheduled for Wednesday, back in Florida, more to confirm that no further in-clinic rehab is needed. But he tries to keep a calm look on his face, not wanting to let his anxiety bleed out in case his employer would decide to keep him from competing, no matter how important this match will be in the long run for the world title match at Extreme Rules.

"Gracias, that is all I can ask, Ricardo," Alberto smiles, wrapping an arm around him. "And if I may make a suggestion..." When Ricardo looks up at him, he grins. "Wear your zubaz. Maybe they'll bring you luck, mi amigo."

Ricardo's eyes light up and Alberto grins, aware that the younger man had wanted to wear the garish pants on TV for a very long time. "Really?" When his employer nods, he laughs. "Gracias, El Patron. I will." He's not sure if he can pull off the victory, especially so soon after his ankle injury, but with Del Rio by his side, and his favorite pair of Zubaz on, he thinks he'll at least have _some_ chance.


	14. By Your Side

Watching Alberto Del Rio struggle hurts worse each time it happens; the Mexican aristocrat had always been so untouchable, so strong; to see him like this, beaten, injured, eats at Ricardo Rodriguez. He thinks he'd rather endure another ankle injury than have to sit here helplessly and watch his best friend hurt like this. So he stays, squeezes his hands, tries to help him through the examinations of his knee to clear him to compete, convince Vickie to allow him a chance against Dolph Ziggler, and- and-

He's sure he sounds embarrassingly young when he implores the trainer to fix it before the title match that Alberto had requested, but he doesn't care, hands fluttering around the older man's face as Alberto continues to struggle against the pain in his knee. Unfortunately, there's nothing to do but stand by and try to comfort him with what feels like cheap assurances when the trainer confirms that he won't be cleared to compete tonight, both men falling silent and still when Teddy Long, for whatever reason, gives Swagger an opportunity to gain a title shot at the next pay per view.

Alberto slaps his fist against the cot, closing his eyes as pain stabs up his leg at the rough movement. Ricardo desperately squeezes his arm, trying to keep him from hurting himself further. "Get Booker T, Ricardo," he beseeches the younger man, his eyes dark with grim determination. "Por favor, mi amigo."

"Si, si," he nods, quickly hobbling out of the room to look for the general manager. Thankfully he's not far away, probably coming to talk to Alberto himself, and Ricardo rushes up to him. "Please, please, come talk to El Patron," he begs him, eyes wide. "What Mr. Long is doing, it's not right-"

"I know, I know, dawg, I was already on my way," he tells the ring announcer, resting a large hand on his shoulder and turning him back towards the room. "Come on, I want to hear what your employer has to say, then I'll make my decision on what Teddy Long tried to make official without my permission."

"Gracias, gracias," Ricardo sighs, growing more and more sure that this all will be fixed within minutes as he returns to the office, Booker T following him closely. Alberto seems relieved as the two enter, nodding in thanks to his ring announcer as he moves to his side and rests a hand on his shoulder, squeezing slightly.

To his credit, the general manager hears him out, not interrupting once, until finally Alberto runs out of words to explain his side of things, why he felt it was obvious that he deserved a title rematch, considering his hadn't really began fairly. Both men sigh in relief when Booker nods, agreeing with them. "I get it, dawgs, I don't like how Teddy's handlin' things myself. Don't worry, I'll be handlin' this situation shortly. Just relax and feel better soon, a'ight? We need you at 100%," he tells the former World Heavyweight Champion.

Shortly after he leaves, Swagger vs Ziggler begins and Alberto glances around. Ricardo, frowning down at him, looks around quickly too and notices as well- the trainer is gone, the room quiet. "El Patron," he says after a moment, suspecting what his employer is thinking-

"Help me up," he says after a moment, confirming the younger man's worry. "Por favor, Ricardo. I have to- I have to be out there." Holding a hand out to the ring announcer, he watches the conflicted emotions on his face. "Mi amigo, _por favor,_" he insists, reaching out for him. "It'll be fine, I swear, I just..." He falls quiet when Ricardo finally takes his hand, uncertainty still in his eyes even as he helps him off of the cot and waits until he has his balance. "Gracias, mi amigo. Muchas gracias."

"I don't know," Ricardo murmurs even as he helps him walk towards the gorilla position, managing to fret despite gripping to Alberto with one hand and his crutch with the other. "Your knee-"

"Will be fine, just have to walk it off some," he tells the younger man with a self-assured smile. "Trust me?"

Ricardo hesitates but nods, easing his friend the rest of the way to the curtain, which they watch through as Swagger leaves ring side area and heads for the gorilla position himself, Alberto moving quickly and attacking him before Ricardo can even blink, quickly following his employer out to oversee everything, hold Colter off with rough jabs from his crutch, despite it leaving him a bit off-balanced as well on his still healing ankle. This allows Alberto to lock in the armbar on Swagger, who's balanced awkwardly off of hte ramp, his arm twisted painfully as referees immediately begin working to separate the two. Nonetheless, the Mexicans are pleased at even this bit of offense as Ricardo supports Alberto once he gets away from the crowd, allowing Swagger to collapse at Colter's feet.

Once they're backstage again, Alberto squeezes Ricardo's shoulder. "Amigo, gracias. I know you were understandably reluctant, but this went well." He grins as his ring announcer nods at him.

"Si it did, El Patron. I'm sorry I doubted your plan, I just... didn't want you to injure your knee worse." He looks anxious even as Alberto shakes his head at him, patting his jaw.

"I know, amigo. But everything turned out fine, Swagger got what he deserved and I have another chance at the world title in a few weeks. My knee will be perfectly fine by then. So you can relax, si?" Ricardo nods slowly, some of his tension draining away as Alberto grins at him, confident once more that everything will end up fine for them both.


	15. Down but Not Out

Ricardo chokes painfully, his eyes fluttering as he stares ahead, burning pain in his shoulder and side from where the ladder had sandwiched him against the barricade wall. "Ay," he breathes, looking at what of the demolished ringside area he can see from this angle. "El Patron...?"

His ribs feel like they're on fire but he struggles through it, continuing to crawl closer to the ring. He can see Big E. out of the corner of his eye but the larger man doesn't move, seemingly content to lay there and avoid the pain he too is feeling after Swagger's rampage. "El Patron," Ricardo mumbles, finally reaching the steps and awkwardly making it to his knees, his fingers digging into the steel until he can see inside of the ring. His employer is still laying there, breathing in and out sharply, and his heart sinks at just how far away the older man seems to his sore, weary body. "I'm coming," he grunts, forcing himself slowly up the stairs on his knees until he reaches the apron and rolls under the bottom rope, coming to a stop next to Alberto. "El Patron," he tries again, loosely wrapping an arm around the motionless man. "I'm here."

He watches the older man breathe, growing more and more worried as he says and does nothing. "El Patron?" His whole body is burning agony as he shifts closer, pulling his employer closer to him. "Por favor, say something." He's starting to feel ill with anxiety, staring up at him, wondering for the first time if perhaps the ladder match was a mistake, if perhaps- but then he feels motion, and fingers graze against his arm, finally squeezing his wrist. "El Patron?"

"R- Ricardo," his employer breathes out, voice tight with pain. "What- what happened?"

"Swagger with a ladder," he whispers, resting his head against his employer's shoulder before forcing himself to sit up even as white hot pain bleeds down his shoulder to his ribs. "How do you feel?" Alberto has a past with concussions, and it's the last thing Ricardo wants for him, especially now, when he's so close to getting to compete in his selected match to get his title back.

"I- I, nn... sore," he mutters, blinking slowly. "Help me up."

He can barely help himself, much less his employer too, so he simply rests his uninjured arm on Alberto's shoulder and shakes his head, trying to breath steadily through the pain. "No, no, El Patron. You might have a concussion, or-"

"I know what a concussion feels like, this isn't it," he mumbles back, reaching out and gripping Ricardo's shoulder to maneuver himself up, causing the younger man to recoil viciously and hiss out strained Spanish. Alberto's eyes widening, he shakes his head and finds his own way up, grabbing his best friend's good side. "Ay dios mio, I forgot," he hisses, vaguely remembering how he'd been laying on his side, forced to do nothing but watch as Swagger sandwiched Ricardo between the ladder and barricade wall. "Amigo, I'm sorry-..."

Ricardo shakes his head, biting his lip against the pain. "It's fine," he says tightly. "Just... don't do that again, por favor." He tries to smile but it fails quickly, Alberto wincing sympathetically as he all but slumps in on himself, breathing heavily.

"I won't, amigo." As the trainer joins them, trying to help the many downed people as quickly as he can, Alberto pushes him towards Ricardo just for the ring announcer to refuse assistance until he looks Alberto over. Del Rio, rolling his eyes, finally gives in, allowing the trainer to examine his side and head, finding nothing seriously wrong with him, confirming he'll just be sore for a few days. "Your turn, Ricardo," the Mexican aristocrat announces, tone tense even as Ricardo nods wearily.

He stays with him, squeezing his good shoulder to ground him every time he groans and hisses at the trainer's prodding touch, wincing when welts and bruising that matches the shape of a ladder is revealed along his ring announcer's shoulder and chest upon the removal of his tux jacket and dress shirt, his back tender too from where it impacted with the barricade wall. "Ay," Ricardo hisses, closing his eyes desperately.

Alberto watches closely until the trainer confirms that he'll be ok, just bruised and sore for a few days as well. He sighs in relief, squeezing his best friend's neck as he stands and then helps Ricardo to his feet also, grimacing with every step that they take, supporting each other up the ramp. "It'll be ok, mi amigo. This is far from over."


	16. Rest

Alberto Del Rio paces around the room on Friday evening, looking over at his sleeping ring announcer now and again, before shaking his head and sitting next to the younger man with a sigh, brushing a hand through his mussed hair. "Mi amigo, wake up," he whispers to him, trying to look comforting as Ricardo fights his way to consciousness, lips parted in a soft mumble that morphs into a whimper when he shifts his shoulder, putting pressure on his bruised side. "Easy, easy."

When the ring announcer is more awake, looking less confused and scared, he blinks and looks around the room. "What's going on, El Patron?" He yawns and rubs his good hand up his face, through his hair before shaking his head as he tries to stretch out his bad arm, wincing in pain every few moments. Only reinforcing Alberto's plans. "Are you going somewhere?" he asks, noticing finally that his friend is dressed impeccably in a suit, his hair gelled and shoes shined.

"Si, si. Smackdown is starting soon," he tells him quietly. He's not surprised when the ring announcer tries to sit up, despite the visible pain his shoulder is still causing him. "Hey, hey. No, mi amigo. I want you to stay and rest tonight. I allowed you to accompany me on the media events this week, because I knew you were looking forward to them, but this... I don't want to risk it, after everything you've been through lately. I don't want to give Swagger the chance to try anything."

Ricardo doesn't look thrilled with the prospect, staring at his employer, but finally nods, knowing he's not up to dragging himself out of bed and struggling into his tux just to stand around and potentially be a target yet again. "Fine, El Patron... just be careful, por favor."

"I will, mi amigo," he promises with a small smile, running his fingers through the younger man's sleep-mussed hair before walking over to the desk, collecting a few things. "Here," he says quietly. "Your phone, the remote, and..." He leans a bottle of water against the pillow, in reach of the ring announcer, the electronics sitting next to it. "There, now you won't have to get up before I come back, si? Just rest, Ricardo. I'll be back soon." He smiles at the younger man before turning for the door. "If you happen to need anything while I _am_ gone, just call me."

"Si, El Patron," he says tiredly, knowing that he won't, not wanting to disrupt whatever the older man will be doing at Smackdown. Alberto smiles at him and leaves, the door clicking shut sounding loud and empty all at once to the ring announcer. He sighs and tightens his fingers around the bedding, shaking his head. After a moment, he grips the remote and turns the TV on, hating not _being_ at Smackdown but needing the distraction while he waits to see his employer.

He thinks he dozes off for a bit but it's Ziggler's music that pulls him back to consciousness with a gasp, looking around in confusion until he realizes that it's on the TV, his employer out for commentary. Alberto says very little as they recap the past Monday and discuss what had happened to him, Big E. and Swagger examining each other in the ring while everyone waits for the match to begin. But it never gets that far as Del Rio leaves the commentary table determinedly, grabbing a ladder from under the ring and pushing it under the rope, where the three men who will face each other for the world title begin to fight and struggle over it, just for Swagger to take Ziggler out early with a kick, leaving Alberto to finish him off, and then take Swagger out with the ladder on the outside. Ricardo breathes out in relief as his employer ends up on top of the ladder with the world title, overseeing the damage below him outside of the ring, hopefully a sign of things to come for the upcoming pay per view.

He dozes back off afterwards, breathing slowly in and out as his phone beeps to alert him to a text, but he's incapable of moving, aware enough to hear it but not enough to actually move to grab it. He can guess what it says anyway, his suspicions confirmed when the hotel door opens about ten minutes later, Del Rio's steps quieting when he realizes his best friend is asleep. He brushes his fingers through the ring announcer's hair slowly, his touch drawing him closer to wakefulness, before walking towards the bathroom. By the time he returns to the main room, Ricardo's eyes are open once more and they stare at each other, Alberto smiling vaguely. "El Patron," he mumbles.

"Hola, amigo. How are you feeling now?" he asks, sitting on the bed next to him and leaning over to examine what of the bruising on his shoulder he can see in the half-light.

"Tired," he says simply, eyes following his employer's gaze to take in his own injuries. "I saw you on Smackdown." He smiles faintly. "You didn't even let the match start."

"I was intending to..." he begins, smiling when Ricardo looks at him, eyebrow raised. "I was. Mostly. But they kept showing the footage of Swagger spearing you into the wall, and I just... I couldn't." He leans over to adjust the sheets around his ring announcer, brushing a hand over them once he's sure his friend's shoulders are covered, trying to keep him warm and comfortable, so he can get some more much needed sleep. "So soon after your ankle," he continues grimly, shaking his head. "I can't let things like that stand. People will learn eventually. I will make them see." He stares at Ricardo, a rigid determination in his gaze.

Ricardo looks both awed and worried at the same time, not wanting his employer to risk injury any further on _his_ account, but knows better than to try to dissuade his friend. Finally he just offers, "Gracias, El Patron. I know you always do your best to defend me, keep me safe. It... it means a lot."

Alberto just smiles and ruffles his hair before turning back to the TV and sneering at what was on. As he flicks through the channels, trying to find something better, he relaxes, glad to be back at the hotel, safe and with his best friend, his goals for the evening completed.


	17. Unveiling

_It's done._ Alberto stares at the text message on his phone, smiling a little, before glancing over at the ring announcer as he leans over, getting a quick drink from a water fountain at a rest stop they'd taken a brief break at while on the way to the next arena for the weekend's houseshow. Suddenly anxious to arrive at the event, he makes his way back over to the younger man and rests his hand on his shoulder. "Are you ready to go?"

Wiping at his face quickly, the ring announcer grins. "Si, El Patron, I am." Straightening up, he follows his employer out to the car, blinking as Del Rio glances at his phone once more before stuffing it into his pocket, slipping into the driver's seat. "Is... everything alright?"

"Ah, yes," he smiles. "Everything's bueno, Ricardo." He squeezes the ring announcer's arm before starting the car, careful not to respond when the younger man stares at him, uncertain. Pulling out once more onto the highway, his eyes gleam as he imagines Ricardo's response to what's waiting for them. _He has waited more than long enough for this,_ he thinks. _He will be ecstatic._

They're a few miles away from the arena when Alberto slows, then pulls over onto the shoulder of the road. Ricardo blinks and looks over at him, frowning. "El Patron...?"

"Could you do me a favor, Ricardo? Por favor?" he asks, smiling at the man to show it's nothing bad.

"Uh, si, of course. What do you need?" he blinks, eyes wide as he peers at his employer, curious as his grin grows larger.

"Close your eyes? Until I tell you to look?" He smiles brighter as the ring announcer's lips part, head tilting. "Trust me, mi amigo, it's something you'll like."

Ricardo licks his lips and finally nods. "Al- alright, El Patron. I do trust you." He takes a breath and closes his eyes, lips twisting uncertainly as Alberto pats his arm and turns back to the road, easing the car back into traffic towards the arena.

They drive on in silence before Del Rio looks up, smiling at the building as it grows larger at their approach, his surprise for Ricardo only moments away. He makes sure to park at an angle so that it'll be the first thing Ricardo sees when he gets out of the car and opens his eyes, Alberto grinning as he gets out of the car and goes around to the ring announcer, opening his door for him. "Amigo, careful," he says quietly, helping him to stand without hitting his head on the side of the vehicle. As soon as he's safely out, Alberto steps aside and draws Ricardo forward a bit. "Ok, open your eyes."

Ricardo takes a breath, doing as commanded, and finds himself staring at the trailer with his employer's picture along the side, examining it for a moment, uncertain. "Wha-" And then he sees it. His picture had been added behind the Mexican aristocrat, name and twitter handle alongside it. "Ay dios mio! I, I'm up there," he sputters, hand fluttering at Alberto's shoulders. "El Patron-!"

Del Rio laughs, happy at his friend's pleasure. "Now you can stop complaining about not being up there." He pats Ricardo's shoulders to show he means nothing mean by it and ventures closer, taking in the job that the WWE staff had done, the ring announcer close to him.

"It's, it's incredible," he whispers, pulling his phone out to take a picture of it. "I can't believe it. After all this time..."

Alberto smiles, marveling at the all too rare look of pure, awed joy on his friend's face. "Are you going to tweet that then, amigo?"

"Oh, si, of course," he grins, quickly doing so. "I just... I've waited so long," he breathes, still staring up at it in amazement. "It's incredible." Alberto squeezes his shoulder, well aware of how inconsequential, unimportant, he feels sometimes in the business, with very little merchandise or chances to try to further his ability in the ring with matches or anything else, all of the focus remaining on Del Rio despite Ricardo being there as long as he has. "Gracias, El Patron."

"De nada, amigo. You deserve this and more," he murmurs, hand warm on his friend's back as they stare at it for a few more minutes side by side, before security starts looking anxious to get them inside, keep the show's schedule running smoothly.


	18. Chances

Alberto Del Rio isn't all that surprised when his match against Heath Slater doesn't even begin, Jinder Mahal and Drew McIntyre attacking him like the cowards they are while Heath holds Ricardo in the corner, mocking and sneering at the ring announcer as he struggles to help his employer, Del Rio growing more and more angry at the whole situation. Finally he gets the upperhand and sends Jinder and Drew out of the ring, knocking Heath down and locking in the armbar, wrenching back roughly in response to the desperate, fearful look that had been on Ricardo's face while caught up in the corner.

Eventually he releases the tapping Heath and allows him to leave the ring when Jinder and Drew return, cornering him against the nearest turnbuckle. Before another blow could be landed, Ricardo re-enters the ring and jumps on Drew's back, holding him to give Del Rio the space to take Jinder out of the ring. Drew tosses Ricardo over his shoulder, the younger man rolling away painfully, and Alberto ducks, shouldering Drew over the top rope to join Jinder, preparing to splash over the top rope to get them when he notices Ricardo awkwardly climbing up on the turnbuckle. "Que?! Ricardo, what are you doing, mi amigo?" he calls, arms lifted in worry as his ring announcer looks over at him.

"I've got this, El Patron!" he answers, eyes dark with trepidation even as he switches positions on the top rope, Alberto approaching warily as his best friend stares down at Drew and Jinder and- leaps, splashing down upon them hard, flopping down on the floor afterwards, the air forced out of his chest at the hard landing.

Del Rio only freezes for a moment before diving out of the ring, running over to his best friend, who thankfully is already fighting to get to his feet, gulping for air as he catches his employer's hands and allows him to drag him to an upright position. Alberto laughs in amazement, cupping his face and brushing the hair out of his eyes so he can look at him for a moment. Drew and Jinder still at their feet, Heath somewhere nearby, he doesn't want the whole cycle to begin again, so he pushes his best friend into the ring and follows him in. "Are you ok, mi amigo?" he asks the still flushed man, holding onto him as he fights to catch his breath, rubbing at his stinging chest.

"Si, I am," he says, still breathless but happy as Alberto lifts his hand in success. Even when the moment is ruined by Ziggler, Del Rio doesn't let it get them down, smiling slightly as Ricardo continues to talk about his dive, motioning to the turnbuckle. Patting him on the chest, he smiles and nods, leading him towards the ropes.

"You did good, amigo," he says, grinning when Ricardo's eyes brighten as they walk up the ramp. It's only once they arrive in the back, where it's quieter, that he asks what's been on his mind since he saw his friend up there. "May I ask, however, why? I was in prime position to dive myself- you didn't need to take the risk...?"

Ricardo blinks a time or two before shaking his head. "Er, well, I just... didn't want you to possibly hurt yourself so close to your title opportunity," he says quietly. "You've been through enough the last couple of months, I figured it'd be better if... I took the chance than you." He fumbles with his tie, looking anxious. "If I overstepped-"

"No, no, you didn't," he says, resting a hand on his back as they head for the locker room. "I just want you to be careful, mi amigo. You've been through enough the past few months as well, after all." He glances down and Ricardo follows his gaze, realizing he's looking at his ankle.

"_Oh,_" he breathes, both surprised and touched that his employer still thinks about it though he'd been out of the boot for weeks by now. "I will, El Patron. I promise." They smile at each other before a rough, angered yell echoes through the hallway and they both wince, glancing back. "I think that's Heath... let's get out of here, El Patron."

"Si, let's save our hearing," he agrees, leading the younger man away with a smile. To his relief, now that Ricardo's caught his breath after that rough landing, he seems to be fine, eyes still shining with pleasure at managing to help his employer against 3MB, both of them getting out of the situation safely. Their gaze locking for a moment, they share a grin before continuing on to the locker room.


	19. Cuatro de Julio

A/N: This fic is a wee bit late but I hope all of my American readers had a fantastic July 4th! And that the rest of you had a great day as well ;D

Ricardo Rodriguez swallows, looking out at the darkening Florida sky just visible through the kitchen window behind him. Shifts back and forth on his feet anxiously before lifting a hand towards his employer's bedroom door, shaking his head. "Eh," he winces, aware that Alberto is inside, reading over the schedule for the upcoming international tour last he'd checked. Sucking in a breath, he finally knocks and steels himself, trying his hardest not to chicken out and leave. But it's too late even if he'd wanted to, and he knows it all too well...

"Si, come in, Ricardo," Alberto calls out after a second, sounding amenable enough.

He inches the door open, peering in at his employer with a hesitant smile, taking in the large book he now has in hand, marking his place with a finger as he looks up at his ring announcer curiously. "Er, um. El Patron, lo siento, I didn't mean to interrupt your relaxation, I can just-"

"No, it's fine, mi amigo. What do you want?" he asks, putting the book down after replacing his finger with a bookmark and turning all of his focus onto Ricardo.

Still hesitating, the younger man swallows. "Eh, well. I know that you are understandably against most things American right now..." He shuffles closer as Del Rio stares up at him, an unreadable look on his face. "But, um, it is the 4th of July."

"Si, I'm aware," Alberto says, not unkindly. "What is this about, mi amigo?"

Ricardo sighs. "Well, I was wondering... if you would want to go see fireworks with me. They're shooting some off on the beach, and... well, there's that secluded spot that we found last year, no one will disturb you there." Alberto still doesn't look overly enthused and the ring announcer's shoulders slump slightly as he decides against the idea, knowing that, more likely than not, his employer would've been against the idea. Even so, he still wants to see them. "Never mind, El Patron. I just wanted to check. Do you mind if I go alone, however? I would... like to see them."

"No, of course not, go. Enjoy yourself." Alberto watches as he smiles half-heartedly and nods, leaving the room. He picks at his book, distracted, for a few moments, glancing out the window, before shaking his head and leaving it all behind, quickly grabbing his dress jacket on the way out. "Sofia, I'll be back in about an hour."

He decides to walk, the place he knows Ricardo is headed not too far away from the house. The cover of darkness keeps him from being recognized anyway, as he continues walking through the crowds of people milling about, looking for good places to see the fireworks from, until he finds the secluded area partially hidden by bushes and trees. He spots his ring announcer immediately, his eyes locked on the horizon as he waits for the flashes of light to begin filling the night sky. Alberto grins and approaches quietly, knowing immediately when he's been overheard because Ricardo stiffens before looking up and over.

"Oh! El Patron, you came," he says, surprised. "I thought..."

"Si, I was prepared to skip it this year but..." He sighs, sitting down next to the younger man, smiling. "Watching them last year, with you, here, was enjoyable, so I realized it was foolish of me to skip it just because I'm feeling bitter towards most Americans. Why let them ruin what fun I do find here?"

Ricardo's teeth flash as he grins back at his employer, relieved that he'd changed his mind. "I'm glad, El Patron. It's not quite the same without you." Their conversation is abruptly cut off when the first bright flash of fireworks cracks in front of them, red and white streaking through the night sky, reflecting off of the water below.

They lean back, side by side, watching the display with awe, faces lit with joy. "Feliz 4 de Julio, mi amigo," Alberto murmurs while they wait for the finale to begin.

Ricardo smiles. "Feliz 4 de Julio, El Patron."


	20. True Payback

Alberto Del Rio's career had been full of ups and downs. He had been WWE champion, had lost it, regained it, lost it again... and then had a very frustrating year following that, full of injuries and losses, each victory scattered in among them all seeming unimportant and only adding to his agitation. But when the GMs had fallen into typical stupidity, setting Big Show's sights on Ricardo Rodriguez, pieces had fallen into place for the Mexican aristocrat once more. He had challenged the larger man for the World title, and he had won. Though the title reign was a challenge, both Del Rio and Ricardo targetted by the raging giant, it had been a fun period of time for them both, all happiness in his finally being champion overwhelming all of the bad.

This had changed quickly when Jack Swagger had become #1 contender at Elimination Chamber, the feud becoming less about the title and more about nationalist agendas, Swagger and his manager, Zeb Colter, both xenophobic and awful. Del Rio had tried to have fun with this feud too, but it'd all changed when Jack had gotten his hands on poor Ricardo and broke his ankle, his screams from weeks ago still haunting Del Rio's nightmares sometimes to this date. Although Alberto had ultimately won against Swagger at Wrestlemania, the very next night he'd lost his title to Dolph Ziggler...

Since then, he'd nearly lost his #1 contendership to Swagger due to lingering knee issues and Teddy Long, but Booker T had intervened and granted him a triple threat match, and the following week Ricardo, his ankle now recovered, had won him the choice to pick his preferred match, which he had selected as a ladder match. Unfortunately, one moment wiped it all away as Swagger kicked Ziggler in the skull at that week's Smackdown and canceled the match completely, to Ricardo's disappointment. But Alberto had won the #1 contendership match that was made at Extreme Rules, now having little choice but to wait for Ziggler to get clearance to return to compete so he could complete the cycle and win the World Heavyweight Title back.

All of this fresh on his mind, he's leaning against the doorway to the bathroom, smiling a little as he takes in his best friend sprawled out at the foot of his bed, papers scattered around him, the younger man fast asleep with a pencil still clenched in his fist. Tsking softly, he pads softly over to him and piles everything up before laying them down on the table, turning back to tug the pencil gently from his fingers. When Ricardo stirs, grumbling under his breath, Del Rio's eyes soften even more. "Shhh," he breathes, coming to a stop at the foot of the bed, unable to stop himself from staring at the ring announcer's ankles, swallowing harshly.

The scar up the side of his foot from all of the troubles he'd had as a teenager is just visible as his zubaz pants ride up due to his shifting in his sleep and Alberto's eyes darken once more, remembering how he'd clung to him, choking out the horrible story once Alberto had seen his tweets and asked him for more information. How paranoid the poor man had been through the duration of his recovery that infection would set in, that it would be a repeat of years ago. It had ultimately been Ricardo's pleads that kept Alberto from doing all that he'd like to do to the vicious man at Wrestlemania, the ring announcer not wanting his employer to get in trouble on his account by seriously injuring Swagger.

But as he looks down at him and remembers it all over again, he regrets not doing more to make the man pay, his eyes hooded and grim as he leans over the sleeping ring announcer and grips him gently under the arms, shifting and pulling him up until he's laying normally on the bed, his head cushioned by the soft pillows in what looks like a much more comfortable position to sleep in. He shakes a blanket out over him before resting a hand on his ankle, looking up at him as he sleeps on peacefully. They'd been given the night off from Smackdown after his match against Big E on Main Event, but he has no doubt that Swagger will be there and... He moves, walks to the head of the bed, and rests a hand on Ricardo's head, brushing his fingers through his hair. "I'll be back shortly, mi amigo." Turning, he leaves the room with no lack of determination in each step.

He finds himself at the arena faster than he'd expected, pacing around outside for a moment as he ponders over what he's considering. The repercussions of such an action. However, it's the memory of the look in Ricardo's eyes, the sound of his shaky voice as he'd explained what he had gone through, the feel of the raised flesh under his fingers as he'd carefully, delicately traced his ring announcer's ankle, Ricardo sitting stiffly after explaining that he'd never let anyone really look at or touch it since he was a teenager, that encourages him on. He takes a breath and enters the building, wandering through the hallways as the show goes on past the curtains surrounding the gorilla position. This could end in many different ways, he knows, but he doesn't allow second thoughts to enter his mind as he continues walking around, keeping an eye out for his target.

Somehow fate- or destiny, perhaps- is on his side this evening, and he finally locates him at the end of a dark, mostly abandoned hallway, muttering angrily to himself about his failed attempts at regaining the World Heavyweight Championship. Alberto stands in the shadows and watches as Jack Swagger paces back and forth, roughly tearing off his wrist tape after competing against Daniel Bryan. Zeb Colter is nowhere to be seen. "It's a hard life when everything to do with you is an extreme failure, is it not?" he finally speaks up, slipping out of the darkness as Swagger's head shoots up, staring at him with no lack of disgust in his eyes.

Dropping the strips of tape onto the ground, the so-called True American sneers at him. "What do you want, you filthy immigrant? You don't deserve to even stand on this ground, much less talk to me." He's trying to take a swing at Del Rio when the Mexican ducks aside and lands a few solid kicks to his chest and back, causing him to stumble forward all the more.

"Pretty worthless without that Jumanji guy by your side, aren't you?" he spits, kicking him once more before grabbing his arm and twisting around in a harsh armbar, wrenching and tearing with everything in him. He's paying so little mind, so overwhelmed with weeks of frustration and anger, that it takes awhile before he realizes that he has a solid grip on Jack's hand, instead of his wrist, his thumb especially being forced back at an awkward angle. His other senses begin to click as well, finally noticing that the Oklahoma native is screaming in pain, so reminiscent of Ricardo weeks ago, that he releases him, watching as he curls around his injured appendage, trembling from head to toe at the unbelievable pain pulsing through his hand.

"I'll have your job for this," Swagger yells at him, still held tensely around his injury. "You'll be back in Mexico where you belong, that worthless ring announcer alongside you, before you can say-"

"We the people?" Del Rio sneers down at him mockingly, moving like he's about to kick his bad hand once more. When Swagger cringes away from the threat of attack, he drops the stance and instead kneels down by his most hated rival, gripping his sweat-soaked blond hair until they're eye to eye. "If you say anything about what happened here, well... would you really want people, especially Zeb Colter, to know that his _True American_ was taken out by one of those 'dirty immigrants'? Hm? I'm sure it's the last thing you'd want to be known, that you were injured after being unable to even land one blow. How embarrassing for you."

Swagger spits and struggles, but seems to see the truth behind his words because all fight leaves him as he slumps against the pavement, now ignoring Alberto when he walks back towards the exit, feeling happier than he has in a long, long time. Upon returning to the hotel room, he kneels down by Ricardo's still sleeping form, smiling up at him. "He won't touch you ever again, mi amigo. I promise."

Days pass and turn into weeks, the reason for Swagger being off not known. Even so, when news comes that he'd suffered some mysterious hand injury, something seems to click with the ring announcer, wonder in his eyes as he looks over at his employer, but he keeps his suspicions to himself.

Alberto just smiles whenever the news is mentioned, careful not to celebrate too visibly, but also unable to seem completely uninterested. To his relief, the _True American_ does keep his mouth shut, choosing instead to hint that there's some conspiracy in the higher ups of the WWE whenever he mentions it, and Del Rio merely smirks when he reads the tweet. _As long as he's learned his lesson, _he thinks, glancing once more towards Ricardo's ankles, his physical scars now hidden by socks and shoes, _that's all I care about. _

Finally sated, he doesn't hear Ricardo's screams in his dreams any longer.


End file.
